The Killing Moon
by SorchaCahill
Summary: We all have our demons to face, sometimes they are closer than we thought. Set toward the end of Act 3, so fair warning for spoilers.  WARNING: Character death. Rated T to be safe.


"So am I to see Templar armor soon Fenris? It doesn't have to be this way. We don't have to fight."

"You've seen what these mages have done, Hawke," Fenris spat, his lyrium tattoos near vibrating with his anger. "I cannot stand by and allow these monstrosities to continue as they are."

"You cannot judge all a people by the actions of a few. Not all mages commit blood magic. You know this."

"I am sorry Hawke, truly, but I cannot stand by any longer."

Hawke looked upon her friend and one time lover. That night, that one night so long ago, screamed in her mind. She had thought that his leaving would be the most painful thing she had experienced. She was wrong. As they stood there in the Gallows, she realized that there would be no compromise with him. He hated mages too much, and her by association. Even so, she had to try to change his mind one last time.

"Fenris, please, listen to me. If that night meant anything to you, anything at all, you will not do this. Please." She could hear the tremor in her voice even as she tried to hide it. Most wouldn't hear it, but she knew that Fenris would. Even though he had left her after that night, he knew her moods, even through the mask she so often wore.

Fenris just stared at her, his face as emotionless as hers except for his deep green eyes. She thought she saw something flicker there, some emotion other than anger and hatred, but it was gone before she could identify it. If it was possible, his face hardened even more.

"That night...that night was a mistake."

Hawke's face paled under the blood that smeared it. If she had allowed it, her legs would have collapsed underneath her. She closed herself down, shutting her heart away behind an icy wall; it was the only way she would be able to do what she had to.

"Follow the Templars if you must Fenris, but you must see that Meredith has gone mad. She's a fanatic, and a dangerous one. She's just as dangerous as any blood mage. Please, let us pass."

Fenris was silent for a moment. A small, tiny spark of hope came to life only to be smothered out as he unsheathed his sword Mercy. The sword she had given him in friendship.

"I am sorry, Hawke, but I cannot."

"I'm sorry too, Fenris. Sorry that it has come to this. But know that it didn't have to, we could have come to a compromise."

"There can be no compromise, not in this."

"So be it."

Fenris said nothing as he slid back into a fighting stance. Dozens of Templars seemed to materialize out of nowhere, flooding into the Gallows and surrounding what was left of her companions. Anders was dead, by her hand no less, and she knew that she only had Sebastian's support by the barest of threads.

Energy sparked around her as she gathered up her mana. Her companions rallied around her, protecting their friend, protecting a mage. None of them had really liked Fenris, she knew this, but none had wanted this. Anders' death had been inevitable; Fenris' didn't have to be, but he forced her into a corner with no 0way out.

She flooded the ground around her with snow and ice, slowing the attackers around her. Circle mages joined in, but soon fell to both Templar blades and the glowing form that was Fenris. Even now, even knowing how this had to end, she still loved him. She had kept it locked away all these years, hid it from the world. Only Isabella, her friend of questionable morals and tactics, knew of the pain she hid.

She brought down the Fist of the Maker, slamming the Templars around her into the paving stones. Some got up, some didn't. Fenris flashed around the battlefield, cutting down his enemies with ease, and suddenly he was there, right in front of her. His white hair shadowed over his face, but she could feel his eyes on her.

She had to try one last time.

"Please, Fenris, I beg you, stop this."

"You know I cannot."

So much for last ditch efforts.

They clashed together, sword meeting magic. She downed both health and mana potions alike, desperate to keep her life, but just as desperate to spare his. She didn't want to kill him, she had enough blood on her hands already.

"You're holding back Hawke, I can tell." His voice growled across the stones, vibrating within her soul.

"I do not want to kill you, Fenris. Please don't make me."

"That's a choice neither of us has anymore."

"I refuse to believe that."

Hawke stopped then, considering, and dropped her staff. It clattered to the ground, rattling across the paving stones. Fenris' eyes widened, his stance softened ever so slightly.

"What are you doing? Pick up your staff and fight."

"No. I'm done Fenris. You want to kill a mage? Well, here. Here's one who will submit to your judgement. You've condemned all of us in one stroke, so who am I to deny you the vengeance you so crave?"

"Pick. Up. Your. Staff. Hawke. I will not fight you unarmed."

"No? What about all those other mages who cried mercy and you slaughtered them without a thought? They were willing to submit to the Circle, to Chantry law, for peace. My father taught me that magic is supposed to serve the best of us, not the base of us. I strived to live by that credo my entire life, and killing you would shame my father's legacy, shame me."

"Dammit to the Void Hawke. Pick up your staff."

"No."

Fenris charged forward, striking at her with the pommel of his sword. Stars blinked in front of her eyes as Hawke staggered back, but she refused to raise arms against him again. Her action, or inaction, only seemed to enrage Fenris further. He swiped at her again, the tip of his sword slicing down her arm. She could feel the burning of it as blood seeped through her robe, and her heart ached, but she stood firm.

"PICK IT UP!"

Again, "No."

He sliced again, this time cutting across her thighs, a long line running from one leg to the other. She could feel herself weakening, but she didn't move to take a health potion. If he was determined to kill her, then so be it.

"She might not fight back, Broody, but I have no qualms about it."

"Nor do I. She saved my life by fighting the Arishok. The least I can do is protect her from an oblivious ass such as yourself."

"I cannot let you do this either, Fenris. I abhor what was done to the Chantry, to the Grand Cleric and all the innocents who died at Anders' hand, but how is what you are about to do any different from what he did?"

"Do not compare me to that abomination. I am nothing like him."

"Aren't you? Zealotry knows no boundaries Fenris. Neither side in this matter is completely innocent, just as neither completely evil. But wiping out the mages like this in one fell swoop? This is genocide.

"Will you be able to live with yourself if you kill her?" Sebastian asked simply, but Hawke knew that the answer would be anything but simple for Fenris. His hatred went too deep.

The tip of his sword dropped slightly in the face of such opposition. Hawke could see the confusion, the indecision flickering across his strong features. She ached to reach her hand out and caress his face, but she knew such an action would be unwelcome.

"Iô, I -."

A sword suddenly sprouted through Fenris' chest, piercing through his hard armor. As Fenris dropped to his knees, Iô Hawke saw the Templar standing behind him. The Templar pulled his sword back, the sucking sound turning her stomach. She watched dumbly as Fenris' blood poured out onto the stones. The Templar stood before them, defiant.

"Anyone who doesn't fight with us, is against us, even those who don't choose sides. Weakness cannot be tolerated."

Hawke paused, staring down at Fenris as his life essence weakened. Sadness and rage filled her eyes when she brought them up to meet the Templar's. Whatever else the Templar saw in them made him step back, even in his righteous zeal.

Hawke snorted.

"You fear me, even now, and you should. But not because I could use blood magic, I won't. May Andraste give mercy to you, because you shall have none from me."

With a few flicks of her fingers, Hawke captured the Templar in a crushing prison. Panic swarmed in the man's eyes as she stepped forward, removing the dagger Fenris had once gifted to her all those years ago.

Standing before him, she considered. She leaned forward and whispered into his ear.

"Know this, and take it to the Maker. A mage does not need magic to kill."

She shoved the dagger through the chinks in the Templar's armor, piercing his heart. Hawke watched as the life faded from his eyes. Only when she could no longer feel his soul within his body did she pull out the dagger. It clattered to the ground just as her staff had as she raced to where Fenris had fallen.

She pulled him onto his back, using micro-bursts of fire to quickly detach his breastplate. There, in the center of his chest gaped the wound. Frantically, she called on what little healing magic she had, which wasn't much, but she had to try.

She bowed her head against his as she worked the faint blue light over his chest, willing it to heal him. He may hate her, but she couldn't let him die.

"I don't," was the softest of whispers. Hawke raised her head slightly and met his green ones, glassy in with pain. She hadn't realized that she had spoken aloud. "I don't hate you, never you."

"Please fight, Fenris. Please live."

"I've been fighting my whole life, Iô," Fenris paused, taking in a painful breath. "You've been telling me to stop, and now you're changing your mind?"

"That's not what I meant, dammit, Fenris and you know it." Angry tears burned in her eyes as she tried to hold them back.

"Hawke, Iô, it's too late. I've lost too much blood." His words were fainter, but his gaze was no less fierce.

"No, no. You can't."

An ironic smile rose on his lips. "You need to stop telling me what to do, Iô.

"If you do this, it will be the last time I do so. I promise."

"Liar." Fenris was barely able to whisper the word, and Hawke could feel the last bits of his life slip out of him.

"Iô. That night, it meant everything," he paused as bloody coughs wracked his body. "It meant everything to me. Too much."

His hand rose and shakily cupped her cheek. Hawke gripped it to her with her hand, holding it fiercely. Tears mixed with blood as they finally came to an understanding with each other. So much needed to be said, but time was against them, and it would remain unsaid.

"I'm sorry, Iô Hawke. I'm sorry."

A sigh filled the air, snapping Hawke fully awake. Fenris lay limp in her arms, his head lolling against her.

"No."

She shook him. She couldn't help it. Tears were flowing in earnest. She had forgotten everything around her; her companions, the battle raging throughout the Gallows, everything. Drawing on the last of her reserves, Hawke poured whatever healing magic she had into him, but she could not find an anchor for it. The magic spilled out of her, but it had no place to go.

Gentle hands tried to pull her back, but she flung them off. They stubbornly came back, holding onto her.

"He's gone Hawke. You'll just exhaust yourself trying to heal the dead. He's in Andraste's hands now; she will care for him."

Hawke turned up bleary eyes to find her companions surrounding her. The sorrow and compassion on their faces almost undid her.

"How can you be so sure, Sebastian? Andraste didn't do much for him in life."

"Faith, Hawke, I have faith."

"I don't know that I have that within me."

"You do, even if you don't realize it."

Hawke stared down at Fenris, his body relaxed as it never was in life. Fenris' anger and hatred of mages had brought him here, but it was this Maker-damned city that pushed him over. Kirkwall was cursed.

She leaned over his body again, feeling it cool against her skin. Laying a kiss upon his lips, she whispered to him.

"We shall see each other again, and next time you had better not be so damned stubborn."

Standing up on weak knees, she accepted Sebastian's offer of help. Isabella pushed several vials of lyrium at her, a faint knowing smile upon her lips. Varric had pilfered the bodies around them for any useful items. She could see Merrill hiding in the shadows, the nervous mage uncertain if she should approach.

Taking a deep breath, she took in her companions. She would need all of them to do what she needed to do next.

"You've all been by my side for nearly ten years, and I have one more final request to ask. I have an appointment with Knight-Commander Meredith, and I intend to keep it. Who would like to join me?"

"Like you even need to ask, Hawke. I for one, want to see how this story ends."

Hawke looked on as each companion nodded their assent. Having their support meant more to her then they would ever know.

"Well then, let's not keep her waiting."

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

"After the Knight-Commander was defeated, Hawke disappeared, and Fenris' body with her. The then Knight-Captain Cullen asked her to stay, to help rebuild Kirkwall; a strange thing considering his attitude toward mages, but that's Hawke for you. She inspired confidence in nearly everyone she met."

"But as we can see, the Champion did not stay."

"No Seeker, she didn't. Her answer to Knight-Captain, sorry, I guess he's the Knight-Commander now; it was less than polite I must say.

"She told him to let it burn, that Kirkwall was cursed. Better to let it burn, she said, than risk a repeat of events."

"So, it's true. She wanted Kirkwall destroyed, wanted the Chantry destroyed."

"Have you been listening, Seeker? This city took everything away from her; her family and the one man I can safely say that she ever loved. Can you blame her? I certainly can't."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: (Spoilers!) **When I finished DA2 the first time, Fenris pissed me off so much, so this is my attempt at a kind of catharsis. Iô is a Greek name meaning "the moon." Zeus had a thing for her like he did for many priestesses. Bonus points for anyone who knows the reference of the title!


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